Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Backward Mule

Cynthia gave him her undivided attention, watching him as he put the pencil away, then watched his eyes come to a focus on that dot in the center of the tablecloth.

For some six or seven seconds Clane sat absolutely motionless; then he took a long breath, pulled the cigarette case from his pocket and opened it.

“I’ll have one now, Owl,” she said.

He handed her a cigarette, took one for himself, and snapped a match into flame with a quick motion of his thumb. When they were both smoking, Cynthia indicated the circles on the tablecloth. “Something new?” she asked.

“Just a device,” he said, “to assist the mind to bring itself to a sharp focus.”

“What did you think out, Owl?”

Clane said positively, “You can’t stay here. Sooner or later the police are going to be looking for you here.”

“But I can’t leave, Owl. They’re watching the place. They’d nab me as soon as I left.”

“They’re watching the place,” Clane conceded. “That doesn’t mean you can’t leave. It means we must take precautions so that when you do leave you aren’t picked up.”

“But how can you do that?”

Clane walked over to the telephone, dialed Chinatown exchange and spoke to the operator in Chinese. Shortly afterwards he heard the voice of Sou Ha on the line.

“Hello, Embroidered Halo,” he said, translating her name into English and thus letting her know who was at the other end of the line.

“Hello yourself. Did you sleep last night?”

Clane went at once into Chinese. “My sleep was filled with dreams of you,” he said, and then added abruptly, “Sou Ha, I have one mouth; there are many ears.”

“Speak, then, for one ear alone.”

Clane said, “It would be a great favor to me if you and your father should come to visit me.”

“When?”

“Any time. But I can hardly wait to see you.”

“Are there any suggestions?”

“Dress warmly.”

Sou Ha thought that over a moment, then said, “Your desires have been communicated. They will be obeyed. Is there anything else?”

“That,” Clane said, “is all. Tell your father how much I regret having to inconvenience him.”

“It will be a privilege,” she said. “We will see you within four characters of the clock,” and hung up.

Clane dropped the receiver into place, returned to the breakfast table.

Cynthia was watching him with speculative eyes. “I always get suspicious of you when you go into that Chinese stuff, Owl. Was that Sou Ha?”

“Yes.”

“What did you ask her to do?”

“I asked for her help and her father’s.”

Cynthia said abruptly, “I suppose you know, Terry, that she loves you?”

“Sou Ha loves me? Nonsense!”

Cynthia shook her head. “You are wise in the ways of the Orient, Terry, but you are but a man in the ways of a woman. I do not know the Orient, but as a woman I know women.”

“Don’t further complicate the situation,” Clane said.

“It is not I who complicate it.”

They were silent for a moment.

Abruptly Cynthia asked, “Owl, tell me again just what is the meaning of that figure on the back of a mule, the one that you gave me before you left for China, the one who rides the mule backwards?”

“It is the story of Chinese fatalism,” Clane said. “Which in reality is not fatalism at all.”

“Are the Chinese fatalists?”

“Not in the sense that we understand fatalism. They have a doctrine of nonresistance, which is something entirely different.”

“Is Sou Ha coming here?” she asked abruptly.

“Yes.”

“Alone?”

“No, with her father.”

“How soon?”

“She said within four characters of the clock.”

“Which means how much, Owl?”

“I have told you that before,” he said.

“I’ve forgotten.”

“Each character represents five minutes. Four characters is twenty minutes.”

“Oh yes, I remember now. Tell me some more about the Chinese philosophy of nonresistance, Owl.”

“Why do you want to know that now?”

“Because you have brought Sou Ha into the picture and... and I want to have you talking to me so I can listen.”

“And think of some good lie?” Clane asked.

“Perhaps,” she said, “that is the way a woman concentrates. In place of drawing circles and putting a dot inside, she... Go ahead, Owl, tell me about the Chinese philosophy of nonresistance.”

Terry said, “Chow Kok Koh, the little carved figure which I gave you, is an old man and a wise man. You need only to look at the lines on his face to see that he has lived a full, rich life. And he is happy. He is filled with a zest for life and for life’s adventures.”

“And he rides his mule backwards,” Cynthia said. “Why does he do that, Owl?”

“Chow Kok Koh,” Clane said, “believes that the various vicissitudes of life are but the tools with which the Divine Architect shapes one’s character. He believes mortals are placed here on earth to develop character.

“Whether a man has good fortune or whether he has bad fortune is relatively unimportant. It is only his reaction to the good or the bad fortune that counts.

“A man who suffers adversity and reacts in the proper way to that adversity has developed his character in such a way that he has achieved a net asset, so that in the long run he has been fully as benefited as though he had good fortune. A man should not be swollen with pride at triumph, nor should he be despondent over defeat. He should cooperate with Destiny to strengthen his character by whatever experience life has to offer.

“And because Chow Kok Koh recognizes these things he rides his mule backwards, because he says it makes no difference where he is going. A destination in life is unimportant. It is only what one does along the way that counts.”

Cynthia Renton thought that over. “I like it,” she said at length. “It makes me feel sort of quiet and calm. Is there any more?”

“Lots more,” Clane said. “Man, journeying along the road which cannot be traveled, the way which cannot be walked, must never regard wealth as his goal. Only as triumph or defeat affect his character, are they important. One who learns to be truly indifferent to wealth and fame has gone far toward becoming superior to failure.

“The Chinese recognize this principle. That is why position or wealth entitles a man to material comforts in China, but only the development of character entitles him to respect.

“We North Americans are too prone to judge a man by his wealth and social position. Yet with all the wealth and social position in the world a man may still have the character of a rotten egg. Many do. Such men have used wealth not as a step on the path, but as a destination.

“Chow Kok Koh knows better. Wealth and Poverty are but two forces by which character is shaped. If they are otherwise regarded, then the journey through life is a failure. So ride your mule backwards, pay no attention to the things that happen to you, pay attention only to your reaction to those things, the effect they have on your character. I have told you these things before,” Clane concluded.

“I know,” she admitted. “And at the time I was sort of riding the crest of the wave and I’m afraid it didn’t register so much. I remembered some of it. I tried to tell Edward about it. He seemed terribly interested.”

“Edward Harold?”

“Yes.”

“Did you at any time let him have your figure, the little wooden image which I gave you?” Clane asked.

“What makes you ask that, Owl?”

“Never mind the reason back of the question. The question calls for an answer, and the answer is the important thing. Did you ever let him have the figure?”